Shine the Light
by Jordan Trevor
Summary: There is light in every darkness and night at the end of every day. Somewhere, in between, Chakotay gets lost and needs help finding his way home.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Lately, my writing has been a little bit like the 7th season episode, "Shattered" – there are fractures all over the place. New ideas keep splintering off like eddies in time, shifting from one plotline to another. Although I plan to post this story a little bit each day, it is actually completed – a first for me these days! It's set about three years after _Voyager_ has returned home – slightly in keeping with the relaunch novels. And yes, Chakotay does get roughed up – all the better to smooth him out!

* * *

He no longer struggled when the cold touch of the hypospray pressed against his neck. And yet, he tensed as the contents hissed into his skin, muscles tightening, arms and legs growing stiff. The familiar warmth spread through his body, along his ears, under his arms, into his chest, the pit of his stomach, his groin and buttocks, the backs of his knees, the soles of his feet. He stretched on the hard floor and trembled at the pleasurable sensation; it was almost sexual in its intensity, and he groaned as it washed over him, welcomed his release when it came.

The drug pulsed through his bloodstream and touched off a seizure in his brain. He jerked uncontrollably, growing hot, then cold, with each convulsion. Tears trailed from tightly closed eyes; beads of perspiration covered his naked body. He wet himself, warm urine puddling under his hips and thighs. And then, as the convulsions eased, he felt the cramping in his stomach, and he managed to twist onto his side and vomit, dry bile-producing heaves that seemed to last forever.

But they didn't.

And his clouded mind knew that they wouldn't.

He was cold, but he would be warm again. He shoved his hands, balled into tight fists, between his legs and curled into a fetal position. He would be still for now, and the dark haze in his mind would lighten. And he would be home - on _Voyager_ _._

He moaned as the image of Kathryn drifted through his mind. And then he was quiet, floating in a dazed semi-consciousness.

And even though he didn't sleep, he dreamed.

 _She sat beside him, nestled in his embrace, the candlelight glowing in the golden auburn strands of her hair. Her blue eyes glinted, and her voice was low. The words she spoke were only for him._

 _Gently, he ran his fingers through her hair, bending her head back slightly, lowering his lips to hers. The kiss was tender and soft, and she was warm in his arms._

 _And he was not alone._

He opened his eyes and whimpered. The dream was gone. She was gone. The warmth he'd felt in her presence, in the candlelight, was quickly fading.

He drew his legs closer to his chest and rocked on the filth-covered floor. The guard would come again soon, bringing the hypospray. And the warmth would return.

Until then, he waited, crying softly in the darkness.

~vVv~


	2. Chapter 2

The light from Tom's wrist beacon picked out the man on the floor. And Kathryn gasped at the sight of Chakotay. Quickly, they crossed the small, dark cell and knelt beside him. He lay shivering on his side, mumbling incoherently, seemingly unaware of their presence.

As Kathryn ran a tricorder over him, Tom surveyed the small area his beacon illuminated. The cell was almost like a cage and Chakotay more like an animal than a human being. He was unclothed and covered in his own filth; the stench was overpowering. Bruises and abrasions marked his skin; his face was ghostly pale, cheeks sunken and hollow.

"They've given him some kind of drug," Kathryn said, studying her tricorder readings. "I can't identify it."

"Let's just get him out of here," Tom suggested fervently, glancing around at the barely discernible cell walls. "We may have taken care of the guard on duty, but I have a feeling it won't be long before another one comes along." He looked down at Chakotay's body. "I'll have to pick him up, take him into the passageway. The shielding around this cell won't allow us to transport out of here."

Kathryn nodded. "Just be careful. He's been badly beaten."

Tom leaned over and positioned one arm under Chakotay's shoulders, the other under his legs.

At the touch of the man's hands, Chakotay's eyes flew open, and he screamed. Quickly and carefully, Tom picked him up, held him cradled against his chest. Kathryn placed a hand on Chakotay's cheek, trying to soothe him as they stepped from the cell. "Shh, Chakotay, shh." With her other hand, she tapped her combadge. "Three to beam directly to sickbay," she intoned, and then held onto Chakotay's arm as the transporter beam enveloped them.

~vVv~


	3. Chapter 3

He turned and twisted on the biobed, tears blinding his vision. A part of his mind knew where he was, but another part was waiting for the guard and the hypospray. And the warmth it would bring.

He was so cold, even though a medical technician had sonically cleansed his body and covered him with a thermal blanket. It wasn't the same as the warmth that spread through him at the touch of the hypospray. Nothing was like that warmth. And he wanted it back. Desperately.

He tried to sit up, but he couldn't. There was a restraining field holding him down. He knew that. He was in sickbay. But still, he hoped the guard would come.

It made no sense... no sense.

He was on _Voyager_ _._ He remembered Tom holding him, and Kathryn whispering to him. But they were gone now. And he was here. Alone. Held securely to the bed, more a prisoner than he had been. At least, in the cell, he could rock when the pain became too great. Here, he could barely move. And he was cold.

So cold.

He groaned and someone moved over to the biobed, touched his face. "You're all right, Chakotay. You're safe."

He blinked back the tears in his eyes, his vision clearing. Kathryn stood over him. He wasn't alone. He tried to speak her name, but he realized that he was trembling so much that he couldn't form the sounds.

"You're going to be fine."

He shook his head and groaned again. He wasn't fine. He wouldn't be fine.

Not until the guard came.

~vVv~


	4. Chapter 4

Tom drew a hand down over his face, his fingers hesitating against the point of his chin. He sighed wearily; he was exhausted. They all were. When Chakotay had disappeared from the peace conference on Paxus, _Voyager's_ week long search for him had left little time for sleep. They'd found him on the planet Dayed IV, where an opposing faction of the conference had kidnapped him in hopes of halting the peace procedures. The Paxian government would deal with the dissidents, but the _Voyager_ crew had their own responsibilities. They had the captain back, but there were reports to be filed and decisions to be made concerning his recovery.

 _And no rest for the weary, or first officers and admirals,_ Tom thought as he stared across the desk at Kathryn. She was as tired as he was. Even more so. The strain was evident on her face and in her words. And what she said frightened the hell out of him. And though he understood, Tom didn't want to believe it.

"He's addicted?" he asked incredulously.

Kathryn nodded. "Yes. And unless the Doctor gives him a dosage of the drug soon, the withdrawal symptoms could prove harmful."

"I thought you said this was an unknown drug?"

She frowned. "It is, but there were enough traces left in his bloodstream to allow the Doctor to synthesize a sample and replicate it."

"And he wants to give him more of the very drug he's addicted to?" Tom squinted at the admiral. It didn't make sense to him, but he wasn't the medical expert.

Kathryn understood how he felt. She didn't like the idea of injecting any more of the drug into Chakotay's body either, but right now it was the only course open to them. "Abrupt withdrawal could cause permanent damage to his nervous system. And because it's something the Doctor has never dealt with, he's not sure which known drugs to use to counterbalance the effects."

Tom was beginning to understand the line of reasoning. "So, no cold turkey?"

She gave a soft smile at his wording, and nodded. "That's right. He wants to remove the drug slowly from his system. From what the Doctor can tell, he's been given multiple high dosages daily for the past seven days. Now, if we systematically reduce the amount of each dosage and the frequency, we can decrease his dependency on the drug until he's able to function without it."

Tom eyed her carefully. "If that's all there is to it, why do you look so worried?"

Kathryn sighed, pressing her hands on the desk that separated them – the desk that used to be hers. And, damn, did things look different from the other side. Especially now.

"I never said the Doctor's plan was going to be easy. Even with the lower dosages, his body is going to realize it isn't the same amount or potency. The next few days are going to be difficult for him... physically and mentally painful. But the Doctor and I agree that there's no other way to... break the addiction."

Tom leaned over and rested his hand on top of Kathryn's. "What can I do?"

The admiral forced a broader smile. "Visit us every now and then. I've decided to have him moved back to his quarters. The Doctor agrees. Familiar surroundings will help. Hugh and I will stay with him."

"I'll visit," Tom promised, but he felt powerless knowing there was little else he could do to help his friend and captain.

~vVv~


	5. Chapter 5

He cried as the sensation of the transporter beam released him. His stomach hurt, and his chest.

He felt as if he were dying.

He was in a bed, his own bed, he realized, turning over onto his side and beginning to rock, finally free of the restraining field. Kathryn was with him; he dimly sensed her presence sitting beside him on the bed. He still hadn't been able to talk to her, his lips still refusing to form the letters of her name.

He knew the guard would never come. He knew that he would never feel the warmth again.

He knew that he would die.

Kathryn placed a cool hand on his already cold forehead. "Chakotay?"

He could barely hear her. She was right beside him, and yet she seemed so far away.

"Chakotay, you're going to be all right."

Her fingers smoothed over his neck, and then he felt it - a hypospray on his skin. He drew in a strangled breath as she pressed it against him. And then he stiffened, felt the flood of warmth in his veins, touching him in all the right places: ears, arms, chest, stomach, groin, buttocks, knees, feet.

He trembled, released.

Held his breath.

The seizure came, the convulsions, loss of bladder control. And then he rolled toward the edge of the bed, felt the heaving in his stomach. And when it passed, he curled into a tight ball, breathing heavily with relief. It was as he remembered: every detail, every sensation, an exquisite mixture of pain and pleasure.

Only this time, there had been a difference.

Through it all, he'd been vaguely aware of Kathryn's hands on him, fingers smoothing over the back of his head and neck. And she was holding him now, very close to her, despite his physical state. Realizing his condition, he tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let him.

She leaned over, pressed her lips to his ear. "You're all right, Chakotay. I've got you; I won't let go." And she gathered him closer, onto her lap, his head resting against her chest.

Her hand gently stroked his face. "Just sleep," she murmured.

And he did.

And she held him.

And he dreamed.

 _There were three candles. Always three flickering lights that glowed in the darkness. But it was enough to see her, standing across the table from him._

 _So beautiful._

 _Always beautiful._

 _He walked around the table, and she didn't move. Just waited for him to join her. And then, together, they moved over to the viewport._

 _Stars, like a million candles, winked at them from the deep black velvet. And they stood, arms around each other, watching them._

 _He was reminded of the ancient lighthouses of Earth, their glowing beacons calling weary sailors home from the sea._

 _And he turned and stared into her eyes, and the light he saw reflected there told him that he was already home._

~vVv~


	6. Chapter 6

His eyes fluttered open, and his heart beat faster.

He was alone.

And cold.

A sheet was drawn over him, but he could feel that he was naked underneath it; the medical gown he'd had on earlier was gone. The bed beneath his hip and thigh was damp, and his body felt cold and clammy, sticky with perspiration.

He tilted his head on the pillow and looked around. Kathryn had been here, but there was no movement in his room now, just quiet stillness.

He heard a sound from over his shoulder, and with a groan, he rolled onto his back. Kathryn stood in the doorway.

"You're awake," she smiled, moving to the side of his bed. She was holding something in her hands. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. I went to get these sheets from the replicator. Do you think you can sit up while I put them on the bed?"

He nodded and allowed her to help him up, the sheet falling away as she pulled his legs over the edge of the bed. He began to tremble, his stomach churning, bile rising in his throat. Cold sweat broke out over his body again, and he leaned forward as his digestive tract convulsed.

Kathryn quickly sat next to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, supporting him. When the nausea eased, she drew him to her chest, rocking him gently. "You're all right," she murmured. "It'll pass."

He gulped in large breaths of air, filling his lungs, fighting the urge to throw up. He opened his mouth. "Kathryn..." It was barely a whisper, but she heard.

"I'm here," she assured him, running one hand over his forehead. Slowly, she helped him sit up.

He leaned heavily on her shoulder. "Co...Cold," he stammered, shivering.

"I know. Sit here while I get you some pajamas."

"Not... going ... any... where," he managed with a ghost of a smile.

Kathryn felt her heart lift, hearing his voice, seeing his smile. She hurried over to the dresser and returned with a pair of blue pajamas. "Here." She started to dress him. "These looked warm."

He let her put the pajamas on him. Her hands felt so good on his body that he was disappointed when she was finished. He stared up into her eyes, not knowing what to say.

"Let's move you over to the chair while I change the sheets," she suggested, helping him stand.

He managed a few unsteady steps before collapsing into the chair by the bed. He leaned back and watched as she stripped the bed and replaced the linen. When she was finished, she turned back to him, knelt beside the chair.

"Chakotay, do you know where you are?" she asked, placing a hand on his knee.

He nodded.

She smiled. "That's good. I thought you did." She drew in a deep breath. "A dissident group of Dayesians took you. They were trying to interfere with the peace conference."

"I... I know," he said roughly, his throat dry.

"They've used a very strong drug on you."

He knew that, too. But he didn't say anything. He felt Kathryn's hand tighten around his knee.

"Right now, your system is dependent on it."

He closed his eyes, as if to shut out the truth of her words. But she wouldn't let him.

"Look at me, Chakotay." She stroked the fingers of her other hand over his face.

He opened his eyes, gazed into hers.

"The Doctor is going to have to reduce your dependency on the drug," she explained slowly. "It won't be easy." She brushed away a tear from his cheek, could feel her own tears stinging her eyes. "It's going to hurt, Chakotay. And there's nothing the Doctor can give you."

He shook his head.

He understood.

He raised his own hand to her face, hated to see her cry.

"It's...all right...Kathryn," he gasped, leaning toward her. "Just... hold me."

And she took him in her arms, pressing her body to his.

And he was warm.

For a while.

~vVv~


	7. Chapter 7

"Please..." he cried, reaching up, pulling his fingers loosely through the strands of her hair. "Please..."

Kathryn pulled him closer. "I can't, Chakotay," she soothed, her hands rubbing over his sweat-drenched back. "Not yet. Just hold on a little longer." The Doctor had instructed her to increase the time interval between injections of the drug.

"Hurts..." he whimpered, rocking his body in rhythm with the pain.

"I know." She tried to hold him tighter.

He'd been on the floor beside his bed for over an hour, fighting the withdrawal symptoms. His pajamas were soaked with urine and perspiration, and still she wouldn't let him go.

"I'm right here, Chakotay. You're going to be all right." She began to rock her body in tandem with his.

He drew in a ragged breath and buried his head against her chest, his hands kneading his stomach and groin. That's where the pain was, where it hurt, where he wanted the warmth.

Didn't she understand?

He reached up with one hand, fingers touching her face and lips, tangling in her hair again. His eyes burned with tears, and his throat was raw.

Long minutes passed - an eternity.

And then she spoke. "Bring me the hypospray."

He heard the words, but he didn't know who was there. He didn't care. He wanted it - the warmth. Nothing else mattered.

And then there was someone else beside them, kneeling down, another hand on his back.

Another voice.

"I've got him, Kathryn." Strong, large hands held his shoulders, stopped his rocking.

And then the cold touch of the hypospray on his neck, the tightening of muscles, the stiffening of arms and legs.

But there was no warmth.

At least not the way he remembered.

It was there, but the intensity was dulled. It passed through his body with little relief, and left him trembling helplessly in Hugh Cambridge's arms.

"Kathryn?"

"Hold him while I get something to clean him up with."

He wasn't asleep, but he was drifting, his eyes closed. He was aware of the two people with him, knew who they were. And he was also aware of the pain that still lingered, tracing along his nervous system. He didn't understand. The hypospray had always taken it away before.

Hugh shifted Chakotay in his embrace, held him closer to his chest. He had never seen his friend in such pain, even after the Borg when he was fighting his inner demons and dependency on alcohol. And he wanted to be able to take it away, but all he could do was rock the man in his arms. Minutes later, Kathryn returned with a warm damp cloth. They managed to remove Chakotay's soiled pajamas, and then Kathryn bathed him as best she could.

The cloth felt good on his skin. It didn't take the pain away, but it helped. They talked to him while they cleaned him, and that helped, too. He was still with them even if he wasn't sure he wanted to be.

When they were through, Hugh picked up Chakotay in his arms and gently tucked him into bed, pulling the covers warmly over him. Kathryn sat beside him, her hand smoothing over his head, massaging his neck.

"Sleep, Chakotay," she whispered, knowing that he would need rest before the next time.

~vVv~


	8. Chapter 8

She stood in the doorway, exhausted, arms folded around her chest. In the shadowed darkness behind her, Chakotay had finally fallen into what she hoped would be a restful sleep. Knowingly, she leveled her eyes on the man standing across from her.

"You've seen him like this before."

It wasn't a question.

And the look he gave her wasn't an answer.

"Alcohol."

Another statement.

That he didn't acknowledge.

"He's always liked the real thing. Synthehol isn't the same." She sighed, ran a tired hand through her hair. "But he's always been able to handle it."

"You died, Kathryn."

The words were hard but not sharp – there was no accusation in his tone – just truth.

"You died – and he had to handle it. And he did."

"With your help?" Now it was a question, a plea for understanding, for a glimpse into what he had experienced in those months that she'd been gone.

But Hugh shook his head. "No. He didn't need my help. He started without me, and he ended it." He hesitated, looked past her, toward the bedroom. "And that's all I can say."

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. Hugh Cambridge rarely played by the book. "Doctor-patient confidentiality?" she questioned.

He nodded. "That… and friendship."

She smiled at the admission – for all his bluff, Hugh not only had ethics, but a soft heart.

"Thank you," she murmured, knowing how alone Chakotay had been during those months that she'd been gone – and knowing how difficult it was for a man as private as he was to let others in. "For being there."

Hugh lowered his gaze, took a deep breath. "He's strong."

"I know."

"He's beat it before. He'll beat it again." He looked up, met her eyes. "He just won't be alone now."

Kathryn reached out, touched her hand to his arm. "He wasn't alone then."

~vVv~


	9. Chapter 9

_The candles burned._

 _He could feel the heat of them on his skin, see them in the darkness - like fireflies lighting on his arms and legs – summer evenings on Dorvan, after the sunset._

 _He was there again, in the stillness of the cool air, the earth and forest filling his senses, holding him, surrounding him – another time, another home._

 _The candles danced in the breeze, illuminating the night sky – distant stars, other constellations._

 _He turned and saw the path that led to the lake, the sound of rippling water drawing him closer. It was a path he'd traveled many times; he knew the way without thought or light._

 _He followed it, felt the sand and rock beneath his feet, came to a stop at the water's edge, the candles reflecting on dark waves._

 _A hand touched him, soft fingers gentle on his arm, then his cheek. He knew she was beside him without even looking. They breathed in the night, and when he turned his face to hers, she took his breath away._

~vVv~

"Chakotay?" Her voice was low in the dim light, barely a whisper, but he opened his eyes, found her sitting on the edge of his bed, holding a bowl in her hand.

"I made you some soup. I thought you might like to try a little." She touched her other hand to his cheek, fingers brushing softly over damp skin. "I know you haven't eaten in a while, but maybe you can handle a few bites."

He pushed himself up in the bed, eying the bowl warily. "You… made it?"

"Chakotay…" Her lips pressed into a firm line and she gave him her best glare before her features softened at his next words.

"Is it… burned?"

And she shook her head, pleased to see his dry sense of humor in the midst of his pain. "No, it's not burned. Your replicator likes me."

She held a spoonful to his lips, and he took a sip of it, let the warmth roll down his throat. It was good, and he opened his mouth for more. Kathryn smiled at the image – like a baby bird waiting for dinner. And she fed him a few more spoonfuls before setting the bowl on the bedside table.

He blinked up at her in confusion, further solidifying her comparison.

"The Doctor says you shouldn't eat too much at once. You're not used to having anything on your stomach."

He frowned. "Not used… to anything…staying in my stomach."

She sighed, touched her fingers to his temple, smoothing light grey strands that were beginning to pepper his hair.

"How do you feel right now?"

"Shaky… maybe a little stronger." He stared past her shoulder, saw light in the other room, suspected that Hugh was still there. "How long has it been?"

"You slept for almost four hours. That's good."

She saw him adding time in his head, seconds and minutes. He looked at her with tired eyes. "It's easier when I sleep."

"I know." She leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "You can sleep now if you want." She smiled. "I won't mind."

He moved uneasily under the sheet that covered him. "I think I, um… need to… use the bathroom." His gaze shifted to the door on the other side of the room, then his eyes flickered up to hers.

"Are you strong enough to walk? If not, I can bring something."

He shook his head. "I just need… to lean on someone."

She squeezed his arm. "You can always lean on me."

Her words were met with a familiar grin, dimples even more pronounced in his haggard face.

"I was… planning on it," he breathed, taking the hands she offered and pulling himself to the side of the bed, moving his legs over the edge, planting his feet on the carpeted deck. He reached up, held on to her shoulder. A silent count of three, and she pulled him into a standing position.

He swayed slightly, and Kathryn wrapped her arms around his waist, encouraging him with the movement of her body to lean his weight against her.

Out of necessity, he did. And as they made their way across the room, he transferred even more weight to her shoulders, each step a bitter reminder of just how weak he was.

But they made it, and she stood beside him, supporting his back as he took care of business: personal, private - close and intimate.

"It's a good thing… we love each other." He sighed.

And Kathryn leaned into him and laughed at his long, slow exhalation of breath: his love for her and his body's relief - killing two birds with one stone.

"A very good thing," she agreed, reaching up and running a gentle hand along his shoulders, kneading the muscles beneath her fingers.

He managed another tired grin as held to her with one hand and readjusted his pajama pants with the other.

She wrapped her arm back around his waist and headed toward the door. "This is actually part of an admiral's duty and responsibilities."

He cut a glance over at her, the corner of his lips twitching into a half grin.

"Someone has to take care of the captain," she offered an explanation.

"Thought that… was the first officer's job."

"Okay." She laughed again. "Next time you have to pee, I'll go get Tom Paris."

~vVv~


	10. Chapter 10

He resisted getting back in bed. As inviting as sleep was, he wanted to stay awake a little longer, if only to be with her. And so he settled in the chair beside the bed, grudgingly let her drape a soft blanket over his lap.

"Makes me feel… like an invalid."

"You are an invalid right now." Hugh's gruff voice preceded him as he walked into the room. "And I, for one, don't entertain the whims of the infirm, so deal with the damn blanket."

"Good to see you, too," Chakotay shot back with as much energy as he could muster.

"Same here," Hugh conceded, sitting on the edge of the bed across from him. He glanced up, caught Kathryn's eyes. "Maybe some hot tea," he suggested.

And Kathryn understood.

With a gentle squeeze to Chakotay's shoulder, she went into the next room, giving them a few moments.

Chakotay watched her go, then looked back at the man who'd gone from enemy to counselor to friend in the past few years. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Again."

"Wait till we're through with this first. Then you can thank me." Hugh placed his hands behind him, leaned back, stretched his long legs across the floor. "If you still want to."

Chakotay sighed at Hugh's sense of humor, only slightly more self-deprecating than his own. Kathryn had been right when she'd told him about one of her first impressions of the counselor: the realization that he had a lot in common with a certain former first officer.

"Why… wouldn't I?" He stared straight at him, knew that the man wouldn't look away. He'd come to expect the truth from Cambridge and learned how to accept it, no matter how difficult the lesson.

"Like I said – it's not over yet." He ran his eyes over his captain, saw the signs: trembling hands, beads of sweat along his brow, head held a little too stiffly to one side. "You can already feel it, can't you?"

Chakotay's gaze hardened. Accepting it was one thing, liking it another. "I'm not under any delusions here."

Hugh shook his head, a hand stroking over his grizzled chin, close-cut beard not as close as it should be. "Not implying that you were. Just wondered if you wanted to start talking about it now, or just wait to the bitter end." He paused, silence stretching between them, neither looking away for a good long minute, then Chakotay let his eyes drop, shoulders slump.

"Pretty standard stuff," he mumbled. "A couple of guys who hit really hard, lot of yelling, no food, water – took my clothes the first day."

Hugh just listened, letting the next silence stretch even longer. There wasn't anything for him to say when there was so much more that Chakotay hadn't said, although he was hard pressed not to throw "Standard stuff, my ass" back into his face. Standard stuff didn't reduce a man like Chakotay to the state they'd found him in, even with a heavy dose of psychotic drugs mixed into the equation.

Hugh had been there in sickbay when they'd transported up from the planet. He'd seen the marks on him, the bruising across his stomach and back, dark circlets around his wrists and ankles, burn marks on the soles of his feet – and what he hadn't seen, he'd read in the doctor's report: soles of his feet, palms of his hands, under his arms, the crease of his inner thighs. They'd spared the most sensitive areas, but just barely. He knew once he got Chakotay through this, he'd have several sessions with Kathryn as well; she'd only made it halfway through the report before she'd excused herself from the Doctor's office, probably to go relieve herself of her last meal.

It wasn't an easy report to read.

And Cambridge hated himself for being the one who would make his captain spell it out.

But maybe not tonight, for Chakotay was still maintaining the silence.

Hugh leaned closer, saw that he'd closed his eyes. Fallen asleep or maybe not. He would give him the escape this time; there'd be time enough to meet his demons head on when he'd finished going through hell.

~vVv~


	11. Chapter 11

The next spasm literally brought him to his knees, and he slid forward, out of the chair, onto the floor. Kathryn held his shoulders as he doubled over in agony, his hands pressing into his stomach. Cold sweat broke over his skin as icy needles of pain sliced through him. He gasped, breath coming in short, sharp inhalations. Kathryn moved closer to him, placing her body against his, wishing she could physically ease the pain, take some of it herself, share it, halve it. But she couldn't. All she could do was be there.

She rocked him, her hand massaging the back of his neck.

The spasms were radiating now, out from his stomach, into his chest and shoulders, down to his groin and thighs. He pulled his legs up, knees pressed together. He closed his eyes. Even with Kathryn beside him, he felt alone. And he remembered the cell, cold and dark… except for the dreams. There had been light there, the flickering of the candles. But that had always been after the warmth, after the guard had come. A shudder ran through him at the realization that the guard would never come again. It would never be the same; it was lost to him.

And he wasn't supposed to miss it.

His eyes snapped open. Kathryn was still there, her arms wrapped securely around him, his cheek cradled against her shoulder. It felt worse this time; the pain had come on much more quickly and severely. As if reading his muddled thoughts, Kathryn explained.

"You've been without it for over ten hours. Your system craves it more, Chakotay. Let me give you a hypospray."

She could tell his need was intensified: the shaking of his body, the cold sweat, the tears, the loss of control.

He struggled away from her.

"No… don't want it."

Saying the words, knowing it was a lie.

He wanted it more than anything he'd ever wanted in his whole life. More than Starfleet. More than revenge.

He looked up at the woman who held him.

More than Kathryn.

And that's when he started to cry.

~vVv~


	12. Chapter 12

In the end, she'd gone against his wishes and pressed the hypospray to his neck. He'd made it a little over eleven hours, or rather, she had. He was still insisting that he didn't want it right up until the moment that the drug had hissed into his skin.

Then he'd smiled.

And that had almost undone her.

Yet she'd held on, rocked him through the aftermath, knowing there was very little pleasure left to it. The drug was only a third of its potency now, barely enough for him to feel the difference.

The smile didn't last for long.

But, thankfully, it had exhausted him, and he closed his eyes and slept.

Hugh found her on the floor, holding him, her head on his shoulder, her tears wetting his pajama shirt.

Again, he lifted Chakotay from Kathryn's arms, laid him on the bed, covered him with the blanket. And then, he took her hand and led her into the next room.

"You need some sleep, Kathryn," he said softly, pushing her down onto the couch beside the viewport.

She shook her head, started to protest.

"Don't make me make it an order."

She looked up at him; his lanky body towered above her. For all his relaxed nature, Hugh Cambridge was a damn pillar.

"You know I can and will." His voice was firm.

"What if he needs me?"

Hugh didn't remind her of all the other times he'd needed her, and she hadn't been there. He didn't have to. He saw the realization in her eyes.

"If I can't handle it, I'll wake you," he promised.

Kathryn nodded, leaning back, wedging her head against the couch pillow. She watched as the counselor turned and headed back into the bedroom.

"Hugh?"

Her voice caught him; he turned.

"I'm not dead."

"No, you're not. He knows that."

And that's what would sustain him.

~vVv~


	13. Chapter 13

_The candles weren't as bright now, not as close; the light seemed to be moving away, like heat lightning over the lake and beyond the trees._

 _There and then gone, blinding and almost non-existent at the same time._

 _He thought he would miss it, that there would be something inside of him that would turn cold without it._

 _The cold never came._

 _She was beside him; her hand was warm in his._

~vVv~

"Kathryn?" Her name was on his lips before his eyes opened, his hand reaching to the other side of the bed, feeling for her against him, need and sense memory strong in his mind.

The face and voice that greeted him were decidedly not Kathryn's.

"She's sleeping," Hugh said quietly, seated in the chair beside the bed.

Chakotay turned from his side onto his back, stared up at the ceiling; the past thirty-six hours were clear in his mind, as were the seven days before that.

"The Doctor says you'll be fine once the drug is completely out of your system," Hugh offered. He hesitated for a moment, and then, "He's healed all of your other injuries."

He saw the man on the bed flinch at his words. "All of them?" His voice was a whisper, feather-light, breathless.

"All of them."

A moment passed. Hugh could hear his breathing increase.

"There are no scars, Chakotay. At least… none that you can see."

And the next gasp of breath was more of a cry, a bitten off moan, a stifled acknowledgement that he closed his eyes against, gripping the blankets with clenched fists that whitened at the knuckles, fingernails that overlapped the material and dug into the flesh of his palms. And the next breath was a cry; they'd burned him there, too, holding the flame of the candles under his hands first before moving up his arms, then down his torso, between his legs, and then to his feet.

Hugh moved from the chair to the side of the bed, sitting next to him, angling his body so that his hip and thigh pressed against him – contact that didn't burn.

"Oh, Spirits, it hurt." Tears flowed freely down his face, his eyes still closed. "They strapped me down, wrapped… knotted leather around my wrists and ankles… stretched me out – I couldn't move, couldn't stop them. They were burning me, and… and all I could think of was that damn drug and… how much I wanted it." Each breath was a grinding rasp, a muffled sob.

"Do you want it now?" Hugh's tone was even and cool.

And Chakotay's eyes flew open as he sat straight up in bed, adrenalin-charged red hot anger coursing through his veins. "Spirits, no!" he cried. "No!"

He lashed out at Hugh, as if to beat his fists against him, but as fast as the anger fired him, it receded, blood pressure quickly dropping as he fell forward into the counselor's arms. "I just want Kathryn," he gasped, crying into the hard shoulder that supported him.

And then the bed moved, and the hardness was replaced by something soft, and pliant, a body that he knew by touch and smell alone, and her arms surrounded him, drew him close, and he held to the strength that was his Kathryn.

~vVv~


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** This is officially the last chapter of the story - although it leaves itself open for some "add-on sessions" if Counselor Cambridge starts talking to me! Thanks for reading and reviewing! JT

* * *

Time moved forward.

Chakotay slept. Kathryn slept. And when she was awake, she convinced Hugh to sleep, which he did, sitting straight up in a chair with his head hanging over the back of it.

She refrained from comment. If it worked for him, who was she to question?

He seemed to wake refreshed, ready to take on the skirmishes of the day, which, thankfully, were fewer and farther between.

By evening, two days had passed, and she felt as if the battle had been fought and the war was nearly over. She'd given Chakotay his last injection that morning, and so far his body hadn't shown any telltale signs of withdrawal: his hands were still, his eyes clear, and his body temperature had returned to normal. Even the sallowness of his cheeks was beginning to bronze.

He was feeling better.

Tom visited, ate an early dinner with them. Chakotay had been able to sit at the table, feed himself for the first time since his return – still only a few bites, but it was an accomplishment. Hugh gave both him and Kathryn permission to grin like damn fools for a few minutes, while Tom just sat back and smiled at the triangle of dynamics that had formed among them over the last few days.

"B'Elanna wanted to come, but she didn't want to crowd you too much," Tom said, looking at the man who sat across from him. "She… sends her love."

Chakotay's eyes closed for a moment, then opened; he didn't try to hide the tears that glazed his vision. "Tell her… I send the same." He felt Kathryn reach over and take his hand, threading her fingers through his.

Tom nodded. "I'll tell her." He pushed back from the table, got up. "Ship's running fine," he assured, before he turned to leave.

"Just don't get too comfortable in that ready room," Chakotay warned with a half-smile. "And don't put your damn feet on the desk."

Tom shrugged his shoulders, rolled his eyes, gave his best bewildered look, eyes moving from Chakotay, to Kathryn, and then to Hugh.

"Do you really think I'd do that?"

"Yes!" they all chorused at once.

"You know," Tom waved his finger at them as he backed out of the room, "you three show far too little confidence in me. I'm liable to get a complex."

Chakotay fixed him with a steady gaze, all joking aside. "I have the utmost confidence in you, Tom."

And Kathryn smiled. "So do I."

Hugh, having been unusually quiet throughout dinner, offhandedly drawled. "Well, I don't, Mister Paris, so be sure to make an appointment with me in a few days."

The sincerity of the moment was broken, and the sound of laughter followed him out the door.

When he was gone, Chakotay looked over at Hugh. "Not making appointments for a few days?"

He shook his head, graced each of them with a meaningful gaze, trying not to look too damn caring in the process. "All my appointment slots are filled for the next forty-eight hours."

~The End~


End file.
